


someone left the cake out in the rain

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, they're baking okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras needs help with Combeferre's birthday cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	someone left the cake out in the rain

Grantaire tried to ignore his phone buzzing on his bedside table. He really, really tried. However, someone had been trying to call him for about ten minutes and it was starting to get annoying. Frankly, it had been annoying the second it had started.

He grabbed his phone and answered the call, his voice still hoarse from sleeping. “Ye...?”

“Grantaire, you need to help me.” It was Enjolras. He sounded stressed, to put it mildly.

He was wide awake in a matter of seconds. How could _he_ possibly help Enjolras? “Okay?”

“You know how to bake right? Eponine said she’d help me but now she has to babysit her little brother, you are my last hope, please, I’m begging you, can you come over and help me?”

Grantaire suppressed his laughter, he’d never heard Enjolras sound so desperate. “Dude, why are you baking?”

“I’m making a birthday cake for Combeferre.” He was quiet for a moment. “Well, I’m trying.”

The thought of Enjolras, ever so perfect and disciplined, now failing at baking, made him shake with laughter.

“Grantaire, please, this is serious,” he sounded positively disgruntled now.

He took a deep breath and managed to stop laughing long enough to tell Enjolras that yes, he’d be on his way in a couple of minutes and to _calm the fuck down_.

* * *

Grantaire couldn’t help but snort when Enjolras opened the door for him. There was flour in his hair and on his cheek, chocolate powder smudges on his white shirt, his face was flushed.

Enjolras ignored Grantaire’s smug face and pulled him into his kitchen without so much as a word. Grantaire had been in this kitchen, and the mess that greeted him was so unlike Enjolras, he couldn’t help but to break into another fit of giggles. He could almost hear Enjolras rolling his eyes.

“Okay, show me what you made so far,” Grantaire nudged his arm, hoping he wasn’t being too mean, but the whole thing was just way too hilarious.

Enjolras pushed a bowl in front of Grantaire. “Yes, well, that looks interesting.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow at that. “You do know that it’s not supposed to be this... crumbly?”

“Yes of course I know that,” he hissed. “Can you fix it?” The pleading look in his eyes almost made Grantaire feel bad for laughing so much. But only almost.

“I think the best thing would be to start all over, you know? Because I don’t know how you did that,” Grantaire said, pointing at Enjolras’ ‘dough’, “but it’s well past being fixable.”

Enjolras nodded. “Fine, just tell me what to do.”

“Right...,” Grantaire mumbled, looking around. “I’m guessing you were trying to make chocolate cake?”

“You can’t even see what I was _trying_ to make?,” Enjolras wailed.

“Don’t worry man, I got this, get me some butter, sugar... and um, 3 eggs, flour, baking powder... and the chocolate powder... I’m glad you didn’t try to bake that crumbly stuff.”

“You don’t need a recipe?” Grantaire saw Enjolras stare at him in awe. He never did that. What a brave new world.

Grantaire started pouring ingredients into a new bowl, Enjolras eagerly handing him whatever he asked for, and finally let Enjolras mix it all together, while he was raving about lazy people who used electric mixers. Enjolras was probably wishing that he were as enthusiastic about politics as he was about baking.

“Maybe whisk it not that excessively, you’re gonna...,” Grantaire couldn’t even finish and before he knew it, he was already dotted in cake dough. “Whatever.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m really bad at this, aren’t I.” Enjolras then tried to get some dough off Grantaire’s face, which only made it worse.

“Don’t worry, just put the rest of it in the cake tin and not on me, okay.”

* * *

When they’d finally pushed it in the oven, Grantaire flung himself on a chair and started licking dough off the whisk, Enjolras looking at him with a shocked expression. “What? It’s delicious.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not healthy,” he muttered with a disapproving tone. “And it looks obscene,” he added more quietly.

Grantaire huffed and handed over the whisk. “You sound like Joly... here, take it.”

“Okay, this is really good. I bow to you and your skills.” Enjolras managed to get more dough on his face than he actually got in his mouth. (And he’d been right, it did look obscene.) “Where did you learn how to bake? You make the greatest brownies, seriously... I mean, except for that one time you brought weed brownies to one of our meetings.”

“Oh, but you were hilarious that evening, I think I’ve never had more fun in my entire life. You didn’t even yell at me for once, you were just laughing,” Grantaire smiled at the memory. That surely had been one of his brighter ideas. “But yeah, um, my grandmother taught me how to bake, I spent a lot of time with her when I was little, because my mum sort of sucked at taking care of me.” He shrugged. “I always liked it.”

Enjolras looked a bit taken aback at the mention of Grantaire’s family. “I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked.”

Silence settled over them, although Enjolras seemed like he wanted to say something, but never did. After a while, Grantaire got up and started cleaning up the mess the two of them – well, actually Enjolras – had made.

Enjolras soon joined him. “You really don’t have to clean up, you’ve helped me enough.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” Grantaire said and accidentally dipped his hand into a small heap of flour on the counter. “Aw man.” With a chuckle he wiped it on Enjolras’ cheeks. “Suits you.”

“Have you looked at yourself, you look like you fell into the bowl.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

Enjolras regarded him with the most innocent expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snickered, which resulted in Grantaire throwing a handful of flour at him.

They probably would have turned Enjolras’ kitchen into a battlefield if the oven timer hadn’t beeped a couple of seconds later. Grantaire took the cake out of the oven and they both marvelled at it for a bit, extremely proud of the outcome of their adventure.

“What now?”

“You can start melting the chocolate for the ganache, the cake just needs to cool off a little.”

“The what...?”

“Your ignorance is adorable, creamy chocolately stuff that goes on top of the cake, are you with me?”

“Right...”

Grantaire continued cleaning up, noticing the flour all over the floor, when Enjolras spoke up again. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“What?” Grantaire leant over, to see what Enjolras was doing. “Um yeah no, it’s burning, that’s definitely not supposed to happen.” He pushed the pot off the heat and started stirring the chocolate furiously.

“Well, we can just pretend that the burnt bits are nuts, right?”

* * *

“It turned out alright, don’t you think?,” Enjolras asked Grantaire when they were finally done. The kitchen still was more of a battlefield than anything else.

Grantaire patted his arm. “Yes, I’m very proud of you.”

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not, it looks great, ‘Ferre’s going to love it.”

“Yeah, thanks to you.”Grantaire blushed at Enjolras’ fond smile. “Seriously, thank you so much.”

Grantaire blushed even more when Enjolras pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> (I apologise to everyone who's good at baking and sees all the mistakes I've made)  
> (I can't bake)  
> (baking and I are not on speaking terms)  
> (this fic is for Fiona)  
> (don't ask me about the title, it was Matthew's idea)


End file.
